


Morning

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Series: Stallion Series [4]
Category: due South
Genre: Bondage, Injury, M/M, Multiple Partners, Pony Play, Punishment, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-22
Updated: 2002-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:26:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renny and the Prince enjoy the morning's entertainment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning

Stirred up by Benton's quick movements, the diaphanous curtains separating the parlor from the private corridor trembled. The noise of hitching giggles was loud in the corridor, bouncing around the cool darkness like invisible spider webs on Benton's skin. He stopped before breaching the pallid door, his fingers just barely grazing the smooth curtains. Closing his eyes, he let his breathing slow as he hummed deeply in his chest. Inside he felt nervous and excited, but on the outside he showed only the icy calm he was known for. His flesh still tingled, alive with the scent of his stallion's body, and his mind swam in lust and pride. His Ray was beautiful, and broken. Two things the noblemen on the other side of these curtains thought the beast would never be.

He turned his head almost imperceptively to the left, not even bothering to look over his shoulder at his servant and his pet. "Wait until I call for you, Luey." He didn't listen to his servant's stammered promise of obedience; Benton's senses were trained on his broken beast. Held down only by the rope tether looped around his neck, Ray crouched on all fours beside Louis. Though he had been wary of entrusting the beast to another, Ray was so far behaving himself, following Benton's orders as they walked him through the palatial mansion, his gaze glazed and his cock rock-hard. A nearby clock chimed the hour, announcing that the time was at hand.

The cream-silk curtains parted as Ben entered the parlor chamber, leaving long tingling lines of ghostly sensation along his bare arms. He stopped just inside the entrance, waiting to be acknowledged by his guests. The other two occupants of the room took little notice of the Lord of the House's arrival. Their attentions were absorbed in each other as Renny coaxed more squeaking retorts from his lapmate's tenderly worshipped throat. Like Benton, they were wearing as little as was still decent, but it was conclusive that none would stay that way for long. Benton forced himself to watch them play like overly excited poodles, but the show was as boring as it was mundane.

Removing the long bull whip from where it was looped at his belt, Benton made his presence known with an air-ripping CRACK ending only centimeters from the tops of the couple's heads. A credit to their upbringing, the pair leisurely tapered off their caresses until they, in their own good time, graced Benton with their attention.

Renny, for one, was glad to see his older friend. Partially displacing the Prince from his lap, Renfeild gestured elegantly at Benton, inviting him to join them on the couch. Benton stepped forward to take his bejeweled hand, squeezing it in greeting, but respectfully declined the invitation.

"Benton, darling!" Renny gushed loudly, as though he had not seen Benton in years rather than hours. Benton winced at Renny's boisterous greeting. He was always too happy after he'd been well and truly fucked. The residual blush underlying the rouge streaks on his well-powdered cheeks said more to Benton on his friend's successful seduction than the triumphant ring in his voice. So, the Prince wasn't a bottom after all.

Smirking slightly at his sudden realization, Benton covered up his grin by bowing low before the Prince. "My lord, I trust you slept well."

Prince Stan leaned back on the overstuffed cushions of the divan, almost purring as Renny's fingers returned to caressing his inner thigh. With an uncaring wobble of his hand, he gestured for Benton to not bother with such formalities. "Tolerably so, Fraser. The bed was so small, I thought I would topple out before the morn." He giggled lightly behind his fingers, and Renny politely joined him in the joke at Benton's expense.

The bed of which Prince Stan spoke easily could fit a dozen men twice the twit's size, but the arrogant lad was always finding ways to denigrate Ben's estate and good name. Benton growled in his mind, wishing nothing more than to show the fop who was the real Master in this house, but he held his angered tongue. "The bed was meant for one occupant, Prince. Perhaps if you had not had company in it, you would have not only had more room, but more sleep."

The prince's scowl did not lighten with Renny's genuine laugh. "Oh, Benton, how rude!" Renny scolded, his eyes rolling with the mock reprimand. "And after we've gotten all ready for the morning's entertainment."

Suddenly interested in something other than Renny's hand at his crotch, Prince Stan leaned forward, his unruly blonde ringlets brushing his brows as they lifted. "What's it to be today, Fraser? That delicious black gelding?" Stan licked his painted lips with the memory of his first night's fun. "My, did he squeal when you sliced them off!" Tickling Renny, Stan made a high-pitched imitation of the stallion's scream as he was cut.

Benton couldn't stop the smile at the accurate impersonation, the recalled image in his mind morphing into the Prince on his cutting board. "I have something better in mind." Ben clapped his hands twice, the noise startlingly loud. "Luey!"

Presently the curtains parted again, and the half-naked image of Benton's man appeared in the doorway. Louis came forward to place a rough rope into his master's hand, then he stepped back, waiting for instructions. At Ben's gesture, he moved aside and tried his best to blend in with the wall, his stance uneasy at being forced to witness today's entertainment.

Clicking his tongue and tugging on the tight leash, Benton led his pet through the open doorway. He paused at the perfect moment and stepped aside, allowing Renny and Stan to have a long look as the feather-light curtains flowed around the glistening, bruised skin of his prized stallion's back. Their appreciation shone in their eyes; a kind of awe and greed combined as their minds compared this image of the docile stallion to the defiant servant of a short time ago.

Benton confidently strode forward, pulling lightly on the leash. Obediently Ray followed, allowing himself to be led around as Benton showed off his marks, walking him in a small circle in front of the divan until he finally came to rest with his freshly cut and oiled backside pointed at the guests. A click of Benton's tongue and swift pat of his rump, and Ray moved from his knees to his feet, going on tip-toe to keep his balance over his hooved hands. Another click, and Ray's thighs parted, showing off the hungry mouth of his ass.

"Exquisite," Renfield breathed, his eyes captured by the sight. "Benton, you have outdone even yourself."

Benton straightened his back, pressing the rough lead against the re-curled whip at his hipbone as the pale pair untangled and approached the beast. Renny asked permission with a raised eyebrow before petting down the ridges of ribs along Ray's side. He used just the tips of his fingers to dance over the sharp curves, giving the man-animal the respect his breed deserves. With delight he prodded the marks of the strap across Ray's back, admiring the skill of the horsemaster and the primal elegance of the swollen, injured flesh. "He has the body of a greyhound," Renny spoke appreciatively.

The prince didn't bother asking permission; his greedy hands instantly began charting the virtues of the stallion's body--powerful flank, straight back, good teeth, firm testicles and a large, blood-engorged penis. "Ah, but he is hung like a young stud," he murmured his appreciation at the stallion's virility, tugging at the bulging sac and the tight restraints around his gentiles.

Ray shuddered under the too-familiar touches, the hands that seemed to be everywhere at once and not caring of his feelings. He swayed, eluding one touch while only to press into another. His head ducked beneath the lead rope, and his shoulders bunched forward.

"You've turned it into a wonderful whore, Fraser," Renny called from somewhere around Ray's ass. "It's slicker than a woman's cunt." Ray moaned as the man played at his recently fisted hole, testing only the outer edges of the entrance. He tried to evade the probe, shying forward. Benton was there immediately, placing his body before him to stop his movement. He pressed his shin against Ray's chest and kept up a steady pressure, encouraging him by touch alone to stay put, to allow the intimate touches. Ray pushed his face into Benton's leg, his long neck just about wrapping around the soft, warm leather encasing Ben's knee.

"Easy boy," Benton murmured, petting the fine bristle of his hair.

"Not as tight, I wager," Stan added to his lover's observation, his fingers joining Renny's at the tender lips. His touch was not testing like the nobleman's. The Prince roughly punched three fingers into the aching flesh, twisting them inside.

Ray's breath caught in his throat, strangling a startled cry. Before Benton was even aware of the movement, Ray had reared up, his right leg kicking backwards. Prince Stan flew across the room, sprawling to the floor on his back.

Time seemed to stop as everyone held their breaths and stared.

"I knew you two would hit it off," Benton remarked casually. Secretly he found Ray's treatment of Prince Stan amusing, but he hid his smile. He would not lose face in front of the upstart Prince; he would enjoy punishing Ray as much as he enjoyed the look on Stan's face as he flew through the air.

It took a while, but the barb and the blow worked their way into Stan's mind, and his Highness was not amused. "You call this trained? Fraser, I want that animal beaten within an inch of its life, and then I want him destroyed!" He tried to stand, but in his anger he lost his footing and fell right back on his butt, his head knocking hard against the wall.

This time Renny came rushing over, fussing around Stan as a mother would a small child who fell. His hands fluttering in dismay, Renfeild checked for wounds, cooing softly into the Prince's ear, peppering his temples with soft kisses. Stan scowled at Ray, his face twisting so much as to make him look twenty years older. Not a flattering look by any means. Benton allowed some of his humour over Stan's position to seep into his face, if only to infuriate the Prince more.

The stallion trembled against Benton's leg as the full weight of what he had done and what he had heard crashed in upon him. Dropping to his knees, Ray practically curled around his master's leg, his face moving up to the prominent bulge straining the black leather. Almost frantic, Ray began to mouth Ben's penis though the leather, his lips soft and teasing, his tongue hot as he silently begged forgiveness. His nose flattened against Ben's body, moving around in nudging pushes, encouraging the erection to respond to his mouthing. He rubbed his face and worked his mouth as though nothing else in the world mattered more than pleasing his master. As content as a suckling colt, tiny whinnies and sighs vibrated on his tongue. Benton allowed the beast to apologize, enjoying the attention, the abject submission of the act of contrition.

Stan stared at the pair from his place on the floor, his eyes almost blazing red with the heat of his humiliated anger. Benton met his gaze with cool indifference, as though he cared not whether the man-animal was killed or fucked, just as he didn't care what happened to the prince. Not breaking eye contact, he reached down and fisted the rope close to Ray's neck, pulling his pet away with a painful wrenching of his neck. A sharp kick in the chest sent the stallion to the floor. Shocked by the unexpected movement, Ray fell hard on his back, his hooves hitting the floor above his head hard enough to dent the wood. Ray's head lifted heavily to look pleadingly at Benton, his face shiny with his own spit.

With Renfield's help, the Prince finally found his feet. "Did you hear me Fraser?" he demanded, shaking off Renny's hands. "I want that stallion dead of the whip, now." Stan almost foamed at the mouth as he watched Ray try to right himself even though his exhausted limbs and the heavy hoof-gloves weighed him down.

Benton turned his back to the Prince, facing the only other person in the room. "Luey!"

His man stepped forward, his tanned face unnaturally pale at what he had witnessed. No one treated a Prince like that! Especially not one of the studs. "Milord," Louis answered, bowing quickly to Ben, then to where Renfeild and Stan glared over his master's shoulder.

Ben elegantly gestured to the twin columns in the center of the room, the focal point of the parlor. Without being told, Louis knew what he had to do. Taking up the rope lead where it was discarded on the floor, he pulled Ray upright. Ray struggled, almost choking, as the rope grew tight around his neck, but he managed to find his legs and finally stood shakily on his feet, his arms hanging heavy at his sides. When Louis pulled him towards the pillars, Ray shied backwards from the lead.

Without a sound of warning, Ben uncurled the whip and sliced it through the air. It cracked centimeters above the skin, then wrapped around Ray's outer thigh, reddening the skin rather than splitting it. Ray jumped forward, stumbling, then followed Louis in a rush towards the center of the room.

There was little doubt why the stallion shied from the columns. From each rose marble pillar hung a length of chain which ended in a thick metal cuff. At the base of the columns were a similar set anchored in the hardwood floor. The shackles were of an older design--dark wrought iron lined on the inside with carefully concealed black velvet. The old iron didn't shine as other sets in the manor did; instead the cold metal swallowed the light, leaving a sinister atmosphere surrounding the shackles.

Sufficiently cowed by Benton's warning lash, it was quick work to shackle the beast. The irons latched tightly over the leather at Ray's wrists. Benton trusted that the lining would protect the glove leather and the delicate skin beneath no matter how hard the stallion was worked with the whip. When Louis bent to latch the ankle cuffs, Ben waved him away back to his corner.

The Prince was livid. He stalked around the room with Renny following him like a lovesick puppy. He snarled--almost growling--as Ben passed by him to approach his precious pet. "It looks like you failed, Fraser," he taunted viciously after Benton. "Maybe you should have tried breaking something easier, like your man Luey there."

Benton ignored the jibe for a moment, choosing to concentrate on something more lovely. Ray's eyes were shiny as he looked up pleadingly to his Master's gaze, and he weakly pulled at his restraints. His mouth worked without sound, not even a horse-like neigh of apology. Everything about his posture and expression screamed out remorse at his actions. Pleading to be allowed to live. Showing just how submissive he could be.

Ben kept his face impassive, not even showing the anger he could feel welling up inside at the thought of being embarrassed in front of the insufferable fop. However, Benton graced his errant stallion with a soft caress over his skull, down to the back of his neck. "You shouldn't have done that, my pet," Benton whispered to him. Even this low voice sounded deadly, like the hiss of a mountain snake before striking. "You embarrass the Prince, you embarrass me." Benton untied the rope lead from around Ray's neck, letting it fall to the floor between Ray's feet. The skin was mildly abraded by the rough hemp, further irritated by the stinging salt-sweat of fear.

Benton stepped away from his pet and moved around behind, letting the tail of his whip flick across the smooth floor with the sound of a serpent through meadow grass. He was going to make Ray pay for his defiance. His well-bruised back bunched and shuddered as he prepared for the upcoming lash. The almost unconscious tensing made the globes of his ass dance and dimple, the angry-red welts on the olive flesh becoming even more bright as he paled with fear. Benton tested his stroke once, then brought his arm back for the first blow.

"Wait!" Stan called out, making Benton jerk to a halt in mid-blow.

Taking a deep breath, Benton calmed his anger enough not to complete the movement and unleash the whip on Stan's well-deserving flesh. He let the whip fall to his side again, halving the leather as he cupped it to his thigh. Spinning on one foot, he faced the furious Prince. "Yes, Prince?" he asked, his voice colder than the wind on northern mountain peaks.

"I want Turnbull to do it," he spit out, his face flushed beneath his white makeup. He glared at Benton, almost leering at him, waiting for Benton to deny him this wish. Benton held out for only as long as was proper, then acquiesced to his infernal guest's request and held out the whip to Renfield. Stan smiled triumphantly while Ben displayed no emotion at all.

Renny, for his part, squealed happily, as though oblivious to the tension filling the parlor. He gave a little peck on the cheek to Stan in gratitude. Then he turned his attention to Benton.

Renfeild could be devastatingly seductive when he put his mind to it. Being of noble birth--if one can call it "noble" to be a bastard claimed by his father only because the rich landowner had no other male heirs--Renfield Turnbull had at an early age learned to adapt his mannerisms to his environment. With the Prince he was a perfect fop, fawning over his every whim. With Benton, the man who had taught him the darker pleasures of the flesh, he was a confident and sadistic lord, commendable for his passion and inventiveness rather than exceptional skill. His height easily lent him an impressive presence, and his dark blue eyes could go frighteningly cold when he was at play. His shadowed blonde hair was cropped short in a style similar in fashion to Benton's, making him appear even more boyish. With a seductive swish in his hips and a hungry glint in his eyes, the overall effect was nearly overwhelming.

Looking as though he meant to devour his mentor, Renny stalked Benton from across the room. His measured steps made little sound on the floor, even though his boots were thick-soled. Though powdered and dressed in soft white, he exuded enough dark menace to make even Benton pause, fighting the desire to take a step backward. Renfield kept up his stalking until he was face-to-face with Benton, their noses almost touching, their bodies a hair-breadth apart.

Never breaking eye contact, Renfield skated his left hand down Ben's arm to rest at his wrist. He gripped the flesh lightly, allowing his fingers to gently caress the strong joint. Renny pushed the arm out of the way, shaking his head slightly to refuse the whip. Before Benton could think to ask what he would use, Renfield's hands came up to press against his chest, silk-soft fingers sliding down over his powerful muscles until they were stopped by the thickness of his belt. One finger slipped under the leather to rub back and forth across the soft skin hidden beneath. Benton was barely able to suppress a gasp at the teasingly erotic softness of the touches. Well-versed with his mentor's reactions, Renfield caught the stiffening of Ben's lips, knowing it for the response that it was. With two sharp tugs, Renny loosened the belt and let it slide down Ben's hips into his hands. With a secret little smile, he closed the gap between them and pressed an almost chaste, closed-mouth kiss that lingered feather-light against Ben's lips for a maddeningly long time.

Then Renny broke the contact, skirting away with a devious grin, leaving Benton craving something more.

Perhaps Benton had tutored him too well when he was a lad.

Renfeild took over Ben's position behind Ray, his eyes moving greedily over the displayed backside as though he were a child with a chocolate. His hands weighted the belt, swinging it back and forth. Renny had chosen well; the thick leather was supple enough to be used as a belt, but stiff enough to almost work as a paddle rather than a whip. It would bruise before it would bleed, the force spread out over a greater area. Twin lines of grommets rode the length of the black leather to accommodate the dual prongs of the buckle and to add a touch of decorative gold to the belt. It would make an interesting pattern on the skin.

At the cusp of a swing, Renny caught the buckle up in his left hand. He let the length run over his palm, enjoying the feel of the dark leather in his grasp. When he reached the end with his right hand, Renny stopped for a moment and stared at the belt. He flipped it over so that the prongs were facing down, then he slipped the end of the belt into the ring of the buckle. Instead of pulling it straight over the prongs as one would if one were cinching it over clothing, Renny pulled the leather through the other direction, bending the ring back. He worked the length through until the buckle caught on itself and the metal edges of the ring dug into the leather of its own base. It put an unnatural crimp in the leather, but as Renny swung it before him again, Benton watched as the dual prongs extended at the climax of the swing, slashing outwards in a deadly arch.

Renfeild was nothing if not creative.

Benton couldn't help but watch in admiring silence as Renny took a few practice swings. The thick leather whizzed through the air, the metal bits ringing slightly with the force of the blow. Renny snapped it just centimeters from the flesh of Ray's back, the prongs narrowly missing the skin. Benton caught his breath and felt his groin tighten at the thought of what that metal could do to his treasured pet. His heart quickened with anticipation. He hardly realized that the Prince had come to stand beside him, and that he was just as entranced. Possibly even more so, for Stan had no idea the malicious nature of his lover. It would be an education for both of them.

Renfeild made one last check to see that the ring of the buckle was still trapped beneath the leather, then almost casually he took one step forward and let the belt loose. The crack of the leather wasn't as loud as that of a regular whip, but the accompanying scream was just as satisfying. The metal fangs flashed in the light of the room as they whistled through the air before landing on the beast's flank. Only the very tip of the prongs touched the skin, but the fury of the strike was enough to rip twin lines almost three inches long.

Renfeild's long and well-muscled arm flexed, bringing the belt around in a long arch. This time it ran across the top of Ray's back, scoring the planes of his shoulder blades. Here they dug deep, and rivulets of crimson trickled down to paint the stallion's skin. He whined pitifully at the sting of the cuts, his voice nothing more than an animal noise of pain as the fangs returned, this time hardly touching the surface of his back--just enough to sensitize the flesh of his loins without breaking the skin. Renfeild allowed Ray to rest for a moment, letting the belt swing noisily from his hand, the occasional SCRAPE of metal across the hard floor a reminder that his punishment was only beginning.

Stan hardly blinked once the blows started landing. His mouth fell open, as though he could taste the pain on the air, drink it in like a fine aged wine. Benton took advantage of the lull in the screams to lean closer to the Prince.

"He is beautiful isn't he, in his suffering?" he asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

The Prince didn't even allow his eyes to move away from the scene for a second, but he acknowledge Benton's words with a nod. The belt flew through the air again, and this time it darted quickly to dig two short, shallow cuts on the blossoming of Ray's neck on the right side. Another flick, and there were twin marks on the left.

"It would be a shame to loose your chance at this one. He is so sweet, so wild." His voice was a seduction in itself; unrelenting, concentrated aggression mixed with the promise of so many good things to come. Benton modulated his words to flow in the rhythm of the blows, the screams, the moans of pain.

Snick! The prongs traced a muscle ridge in the beast's left arm, outlining it in rusty-red liquid. Stan reached down to adjust himself in his trousers, letting his hand remain for a brief caress.

"It would be a shame if you never had a chance to ride this stallion."

Snick snick snick! Three strikes in rapid succession, each hitting a different area but with the same punishing fury. Benton could read the thoughts in Stan's mind as if they were written across his face. His words were having the desired effect, and the beauty of the performance stirred the Prince's blood. It would be likely that in a few minutes Stan would even forget that this stallion had sent him flying. Benton allowed the Prince to stew in his desires as he turned his attention fully to the chastisement of his pet.

Renny continued, striking like a snake all over beast's back, his arms, his thighs. Soon even the snapping noise of the belt leather disappeared as the stallion cried out in harsh sobs against the treatment. Renfeild mapped out a series of parallel lines across the back of his thighs, taking extreme care that at no place did the marks overlap while cutting them very close together. His technique had improved since Benton had last had the pleasure. The younger man had been practicing.

Ray jerked with every blow. Even though they hit with little actual force, the small strikes of the metal prongs ripping skin sent tortured messages of pain to his mind, making his body twist and dance around the blows. His back was fairly covered with blood, and it was gathering in a small puddle beside Renny where he allowed the belt to rest before the next volley. No longer supporting himself on his legs, Ray hung limply from the shackles, his breathing ragged.

When Renny raised his arm for another round, Stan called out, "Stop!" Renfeild turned around, dropping his hand, and for the first time since he started Benton could see his face. His eyes were dilated and dark, his cheeks flushed and shining with a fine misting of sweat and splattered blood. His mouth was curved in a wicked grin, one that spoke of the pure ecstasy he felt in beating the stallion. One could not look at that face without feeling a rush of excitement and disturbing alarm.

The Prince approached the stallion's broken form, his hand reaching out but not touching the ruin of his back. He examined the blows, the cuts, the old bruises and the newly abraded flesh. "Fine work, Turnbull," he praised. He circled the left pillar and came to stand before Ray. "My God, he's still awake," he wondered aloud, his face moved close to examine Ray's eyes.

After the paces Benton had run him through, it would take more pain than that to knock Ray unconscious. Benton straightened his back, letting his pride in his pet wash over him.

The Prince's hand reached out again, this time actually touching the unbloodied skin of his chest. Scratching one long nail down the middle of his chest, Stan followed the line of hair to the stallion's groin. There he gripped the half-hard erection in a tight fist, playing with the thickened flesh. "And still hard. You have this stud well trained, Benton," Stan conceded almost grudgingly. He stroked the flesh a few times, pulling hard enough to jerk the stallion's loose body. In no time, the penis returned to full erection, the leather binding at the base making it easy to maintain.

Stan leaned over to look at Benton under the stallion's up-stretched arm. "But can he mount?"

It took Benton a moment to process the question. Even then, it was unusual. His gaze trailed over towards his manservant, Louis. Louis trembled at his Master's gaze, his eyes widening at the thought of being subjected to such a whim.

"No, not him," said Stan when he followed Benton's gaze. "I want to find out for myself." He leaned back, looking down at the impressive length in his hand. "I want to feel this stud's prowess for myself."

Benton only raised an eyebrow in protest. Perhaps the Prince was a bottom after all. "Let him down," he directed Louis. The man rushed forward quickly, glad to be saved from performing in this outrageous play. He removed the pins from the latches, and Ray fell to his knees. The sudden movement caused several of the scabbed-over cuts to shift and open again, and with a mewling whimper Ray surged upwards, his back held straight and stiff as he supported himself on his far parted knees. This position brought the stallion's mouth in perfect alignment to accept Stan's cock, but the Prince had something else in mind.

Renny wiped the buckle off on his pantleg before returning the belt to Benton with a last, lingering kiss. It was merely another tease as the young lord danced away to join his lover by the stallion, helping the Prince out of his clothes with many enticing caresses and kisses.

Benton looked down at the belt he held in one hand, and the folded-over whip he still carried in his right. Though he now had several new ideas for the belt, he dropped it to the floor. The bullwhip would suffice for now. He'd have the leather cleaned and repaired later.

Renfeild and Stan were busy, tangled together on the floor as Renny prepared him for the new ride. Stan licked the blood off Renny's face and whispered dark nothings in his ear as his lover's fingers entered his body. Benton ignored them for now. His pet was still kneeling stiffly on the floor, his chin on his chest. Ben quietly kneeled down behind him and moved forward until he could press his body against Ray's back. The animal screamed and started at the sudden pressure on his wounds, but Benton wound one arm across his chest, the hand of the other cupping his drawn-up testicles. The position held him immovable in Benton's grasp. His chest slid thickly through the blood on Ray's back, and his right nipple caught on a ridge of torn skin, the ragged and furled edge rubbing sweetly across the nub. He nuzzled the side of Ray's neck, licking up the fear- and pain-spiced sweat, sucking lightly at the cutmarks at the base of his neck. The blood was salty and thicker tasting than the sweat, but all of it was delicious.

Benton suckled his way up to Ray's ear, tickling the lobe with the tip of his tongue. In response he felt the stallion erection bob slightly at the sensation. "You like that, don't you?" Benton practically hummed in his ear. "You did so well, my pet. So beautiful. I could have let him beat you forever, watched as your skin was slowly peeled away until I could have you without anything between us. Just the red-pulsing life of your muscles against my skin, your blood as the lubrication." He sighed heavily. "But not yet."

Opening his eyes, Benton saw that both Renny and Stan were staring at him. They had heard his whisperings, and were just as turned on by the thought as he was. Ben allowed himself a dangerous, killer smile directed at the pair. "Not yet," he told them, an edge of warning creeping in to make his words crackle through the air like an ice flow breaking.

Renny grinned, taking it all as a joke as he pushed his lover forward. Stan smiled a quick flash of amusement to his lover before setting himself on all fours before Ray. He wiggled his ass around, giving both Ray and Benton a view of everything. "C'mon," Stan whined, dropping all evidence of his royal breeding as he writhed like a cheap whore, "let's see how much of a stud this one really is."

Reluctantly, Benton moved away from the warm, wet length of Ray's back, his skin peeling away with the sticky scratch of half-congealed blood. Using the doubled-over whip, Benton tapped the curve against the outside of Ray's hip, encouraging him forward. Falling forward onto his hooves, he crawled a few steps forward, his back stiff and his gait awkward with his pain. When he reached Stan, he stared around at him as though he were confused.

"Up, Ray," Benton commanded, tapping him lightly on his belly. Ray butted his chest against the swell of Stan's buttocks, and after a mighty gathering of his muscles, he surged up, hooves flashing in the light.

Renny ooh'd at the sight of the stallion rearing up into the air, but all Stan got to see was the golden hooves come to rest over his shoulders. He could feel the weight of the man-animal against his back, the sweaty glide of his virtually untouched chest sliding against his flesh. Ray's erection bounced against the crevice between his cheeks, but it didn't quite find the entrance.

Benton was right there with Ray. His hand worked its way between the two bodies, and he positioned Ray at Stan's entrance. He stroked the sensitive ridge around the head a few times to encourage Ray, but after so long of being held between lust and pain, the beast was too far gone to balk at such an opportunity. With a mighty lunge of his hips, he forced his way inside.

Stan cried out at the sudden mounting, but he seemed to laugh through his pain. The slut. Moving on instinct, Ray began a quick cantor, pound hard and fast into the willing body beneath him. Stan cried out his enjoyment and encouragement, which seemed to spur the stallion on. All the stallion could think was to come, to finally release the pleasure that had been building up for hours. Do it now, do it quickly.

Benton pressed his groin into the torn and sensitive backside of his pet; the pain cut through his lust-fogged thoughts enough to make Ray pause in his thrusts. Benton took advantage of the pause to lean over Ray's body, pushing him harder into the Prince and aggravating his back wounds. Ray curled together around Stan's body, leaning forward to move away from Ben's chest, ducking his head to his chest. Benton wormed his hand between Ray's chin and his chest, and pulled hard, forcing his neck to straighten, his spine to bow. The stiffness of his body released, making it easier to manipulate him to Benton's whim. Ray protested with sharp whines through his clenched teeth, his breath hitching and harsh. When he was back far enough to please Benton, he reminded Ray of one important rule. One that would have more serious consequences than kicking the Prince. "Do not come unless I tell you, pet. You do, and I'll see to it that you never come again."

"Come on!" Stan demanded. "Enough talk."

But the stallion was reluctant now. He had been so close to completion, and to be reminded what that would cost him made him afraid to continue. Ben increased the pressure on his neck, manipulating Ray's body while moving his own pelvis back a measure. Ray responded by withdrawing his erection a few inches. With a sharp bounce, Ben pressed Ray back into Stan, grinding up against him as he sank in fully.

"My pet, you know this rhythm. Hyah." Benton clicked his tongue, then repeated the withdrawal-thrust pattern. It was as though he were fucking the Prince himself, only through a second person.

"Oh, yeah," the Prince agreed. Benton worked him into a strong, steady cantor, enough to keep the Prince happy and on edge. "Oh, yes. Oh, Turnbull, you have got to try him. He's delicious."

Renny giggled shortly, then stood up. His advanced height made him perfect for reaching around the awkward position to straddle the Prince's back and allow Ray access to his penis. Benton caressed Ray's neck until he relaxed his jaw enough to open his mouth and accept Renny's erection. It slid into his mouth, and Ray swallowed as Benton continued massaging his throat. He choked a little when Renny went too deep, and his gait faltered.

"Shh, my pretty pony, shhh," Ben was quick to calm him. "You know this too. Breathe, pretty." After a brief moment he did so, accepting the invader as if he had been born to it. "Good boy," Benton cooed. He held Ray's neck still as Renny thrust. He could feel the movement in Ray's neck, the push and girth of the erection as it entered the narrow passage of his throat.

Renny was the first to orgasm; he slammed hard into Ray's face, held there for a moment, then backed off, falling bonelessly onto the couch. Ray didn't even cough; he remembered to hold his breath this time and swallowed what was spilled down his throat in several jerking spasms that tickled Ben's palm. The Prince quickly followed his lover, his voice cracking as he cried out, spilling himself on the floor.

Benton stopped Ray's motions by pulling back on his neck, fairly lifting him off the Prince; his other hand went to Ray's erection to withdraw him completely from Stan. His penis was slick and hot, and just begging to be allowed release. Ray tried a few furtive thrusts into Ben's hand before his master removed even that little bit of stimulation. When Stan moved away, Ray's golden hooves fell off the man's shoulders to land heavily on his thighs, the leg muscles trembling from over-exertion.

The Prince shakily crawled over to Renny, resting his head on his lap next to Renny's penis as he sprawled over the floor. "Definitely...a good...stud," he breathed raggedly, laughing slightly.

Benton held Ray stiff and still for a moment, restraining him in the painfully arched position. "Not until I tell you," he reminded Ray softly, then he released the animal and stood. Ray moved only slightly, easing himself down on his heels, his head lolling back on his shoulders. Without taking his eyes off his pet, Benton moved to lean against the side of the couch, resting a hand against Renny's shoulder as he recovered from the entertainment. Ben hadn't come yet; he rarely allowed himself orgasm while entertaining. It would have been rude.

The morning had passed while they had all been engaged in the entertainment, and it was coming upon time for the midday meal. Stan crawled up Renny's long legs to again tumble into his lap. The two men shared long, sweaty kisses, their passions slowly growing as the initial lassitude wore off. Bored already with the frolicking poodles, Benton pushed himself away from the couch to approach the more pleasing spectacle in the middle of the room.

Ray was sitting back on his heels, his face reddened as he breathed deeply, jaggedly, through his mouth. Even though he was unchained, his ankles were apart and his thighs spread open enticingly in imitation of his usual fettered position. His eyes were clenched in concentration, so tense it forced out tears that shimmered on his lashes. His mouth was twisted, his front teeth just visible as they worried the lower lip nearly bloody. His gloved hands rested on his thighs, the heavy hooves spasming as Ray fought to control his urge to fondle himself to completion. His cock was rock hard, red-and-purple flushed from root to tip, looking bruised and aching as Benton had never seen it. Ray wanted to come, he needed to come. He was suffering. And still he waited for his Master to give him permission.

Ray looked so beautiful. Benton felt it in his heart as well as his groin. He made this--he did this to the pathetic creature before him. He pushed himself away from the couch, his boots clicking on the floor with a calm and steady rhythm. Renny and the Prince faded away in Benton's perception; they were merely toys with which to torment his beloved animal. They had served their purpose. They were nothing.

But Ray...he was everything. And nothing. A work of art molded out of rough rock, more precious for the work that went into him rather than his innate worth.

Benton slowly walked around Ray, his mouth opened as though he could taste the agonized passion of his pet in the very air he breathed. Ray's back, well abused and rusty-crimson coloured, trembled, covered in a pelt of radiant blood/sweat. Every mark stood livid against the flushed and glistening skin. He had been well beaten, and yet Ray kept his head held high, almost as though he were denying this pain, this desire, even as he fought for completion.

"You are beautiful, my pet. My Ray." Ray shuddered at the rumbling noise of his Master's voice, and a few drops of pre-ejaculate dribbled from the engorged tip of his painful erection. Benton knelt down beside Ray, leaning close but not touching. Ray unconsciously strained towards the coolness of Ben's body, cold compared to the sun-flame of heat consuming his own flesh. Even Ray's face turned towards Ben, begging for that one command that would set him free from this torment.

Benton leaned forward, his breath evaporating the perspiration near Ray's ear. He tilted his head, looking down Ray's long torso to his penis. "Come for me, my stallion. Come for me now."

With a choked cry, the roar of a horse in pain, Ray came.


End file.
